


Stitches

by SwagginOnADragon (verhalen)



Series: Kissed By Fire [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 21st Century, Alternate Universe - Earth, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Cock Piercing, Collars, Consensual Kink, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub Play, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Female Ejaculation, Femdom, Leashes, Modern AU, Nipple Piercings, Pegging, Penis In Vagina Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Strap-Ons, male sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 16:54:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15800709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verhalen/pseuds/SwagginOnADragon
Summary: After a bad day, Ygritte comforts Jon by reminding him he belongs to her.





	Stitches

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chantress](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chantress/gifts).



_Tying yourself to me_  
_Stitch up my emptiness cause you're the death of me_  
_So precious loving the thrill_

-"Stitches", Orgy

_

 

Jon took a deep breath as he pulled into the parking stall. He was late, and even the stop he'd taken on the way back to pull himself together - the reason why he was late - hadn't helped much. He caught a glimpse of himself in the rear-view mirror: his eyes were red-rimmed from crying.

But he couldn't sit in the bloody car forever.

The key turned in the lock. Ygritte was sitting on the couch, watching TV, with her arms folded. She didn't even acknowledge when Jon walked in - he knew she was pissed that he was late. He quietly closed the door behind him, rustling a paper bag that contained Chinese takeout, his peace offering.

"You're late," Ygritte said, her voice icy.

"I know."

The brittle edge to Jon's voice made her look at him, finally, and one look at him was all it took - she knew, then, why he was late, and she couldn't stay angry at him.

Jon quickly walked into the kitchen to put the bag down on the counter, and somehow Ygritte was right there to snatch it out of his hands and pull him close, hold him so tightly she could break him if her grip was any tighter. He welcomed it - the tension that had wound him up for hours began melting away at the feel of her arms around him, the feel of her body against him, her scent, her breath, and he went limp in her arms.

Finally, Ygritte cupped Jon's chin in her hand, fingers stroking his beard. She made him meet her eyes. "I take it that it didn't go well."

Jon looked down. "No."

Ygritte sighed. "Bloody hell."

Jon started unloading the bag of Chinese takeout food. "Cat was there and... you know how she is."

"I don't understand why Ned lets her treat you like that, why he puts up with it. It ain't right."

Jon pinched the bridge of his nose. "Uncle Ned has been through a lot - like the war and all - and she's been there for him. I know he can't ask her to leave."

"You know nothing, Jon Snow. If that was us, and you were being an arse to my foster son, the way that Cat has been a bitch to you? I'd kick your arse to the curb right quick."

Jon gave a small, rueful smile. "Yes, you would." He patted Ygritte's hand. "And I love you for it."

Ygritte got out plates and silverware for their meal. "So how bad was it this time?"

"The visit ended a bit sooner than I expected. I would have been home much earlier but I had to just... go for a drive. Clear my head."

"Doesn't look like it cleared much, Jon."

Jon didn't want to cry, but those words broke the dam. He tried to hide it, scooping out the container of pork fried rice through tears and trembling hands, but Ygritte heard the shuddery sigh, saw him shake... and she took the spoon out of his hand, set down the box of rice, and grabbed him by the hand.

"Come on," she said. "We can heat that up in the microwave later... right now you need to be taken care of."

Ygritte brought him to the bedroom and they sat on the bed awhile, Ygritte holding him as he fell apart in her arms. She rocked him, stroked his curls, stroked his face, his beard, made soothing noises as he sobbed and whimpered. It went on and on - he was particularly upset this time, and more upset for being ashamed of how upset he was, a grown man crying over his stepmother's verbal abuse. He heard himself blubbering, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry..."

"You ain't done nothing wrong," Ygritte said, continuing to pet him. "There's no need for you to apologize."

"I was late, and I've spoiled our evening being like this..."

"No, you haven't." Ygritte took Jon's face in her hands, looked into his eyes, and then kissed his forehead. "This evening hasn't been spoiled at all. You know why?"

Jon blinked, and then Ygritte kissed him.

The kiss calmed him down more than the drive was able to. The sweet fire of their tongues playing together, and her hands roaming over his chest, then slipping under his T-shirt to caress bare skin... suddenly nothing else mattered. Then she began kissing his neck and he couldn't even remember what was upsetting him. When Ygritte kissed his neck - one of his major erogenous zones - he could barely remember his own name.

His cock was waking up now, and Ygritte's free hand rubbed the bulge in his jeans, knowingly. "I'm gonna take care of you now," Ygritte whispered. "Get those clothes off."

He did as he was told, and watched her undress as well. The sight of Ygritte's naked body made him even harder. She pushed him onto the bed, on his back, and climbed over him; he wrapped his arms around her and they resumed kissing. Ygritte's hands wandered over his sculpted body, and soon Jon was touching her too, fingertips walking over her, every inch that he could touch, wanting to _feel_ , wanting the concrete reality of her that made everything else unreal. He especially liked the fact that she didn't shave, admiring the red hair of her bush and under her arms, peppering her legs. She was a wild woman, not caring about societal expectations, doing as she pleased, and that was one of the things he loved about her.

There was wild fire in her eyes now, the hint of danger that sent a frisson down his spine. "How shall I take care of you, Jon Snow?" she whispered.

"I... I don't know..." Jon licked his lips and swallowed hard.

She grabbed his head and brought it to her breast. He drew a nipple into his mouth and Ygritte gasped, shivering. "Yes, love," she panted. She cried out when his tongue lapped, teasing it to a hard peak, before suckling it again, then licking it some more. He gave the same attention to her other breast, and then kept going back and forth between her nipples, worshiping them with his lips and tongue, making her crazy. His fingers found their way between her legs - she was already so wet.

"I know how I'll take care of you," she rasped, finally. "People say you're not supposed to have dessert first, but I want to spoil you with your favorite."

With that, she straddled his shoulders. He buried his face in her, giving a little growl as he took his first lick. He licked slowly at first, savoring her, teasing around her clit before giving it attention, slow, loving strokes, wrapping his full lips around it and sucking, kissing. When she began to ride his tongue he licked her harder, faster, pressed deeper into her; his tongue dipped inside her, tongue-fucking her G-spot as his fingers rubbed her clit, and she threw her head and cried out, loving it. Just before she could come from his tongue inside her, his tongue was back on her clit, wildly lashing. And then he slowed down, teasing her again, teasing and teasing with slow, deliberate licks until she was whimpering, gasping, her entire body shaking with frustration and need. He relented, finally, licking her even faster than before, until she climaxed hard, screaming his name over and over again with the waves of her orgasm.

She came hard enough to gush on his face, and he continued lapping her juices until she panted, "Stop," too sensitive. She climbed off his shoulders and smiled at the sight of his face glistening with her juices; she leaned in to taste herself on him, and as the kiss deepened, Jon groaned.

"You like it when I squirt on you, don't you?" Ygritte whispered.

Jon nodded. "'Like' is quite an understatement." He smiled shyly.

Ygritte gave him a wicked grin, and climbed back on his shoulders, but this time instead of lowering her cunt to his face, she began to rub on his sternum, then across from one shoulder, to the other. Slicking him with her juices. She worked her way down, rubbing her pussy all over his chest. Both of them moaned as she rubbed her clit against his nipples, teasing them, the rings in his nipples - pierced at her request, a sign of her ownership - teasing her clit. Then she rubbed against his abs, then down one thigh, one calf, and up the other. Then back to grind on his abs some more. His entire body was glistening with her cream, and he smelled like her. His eyes were glazed over, and his cock was dripping with precum, flushed and looking almost angry in its need.

"That's right, Jon Snow," Ygritte husked. "You're mine. I'm marking my territory."

"Fuck," Jon groaned.

The way he responded to this... she knew what he needed, and he knew she knew. Jon watched as Ygritte climbed off him and reached for the bedtable next to the bed, fumbling around in the drawer. She tossed the chainmaille collar at him, set with a simple O-ring. "Put this on," she said.

He did, and then she said, "Close your eyes."

He waited. At last he felt something clip into the ring on his collar, and when she said "Open your eyes" he saw the leash in her hand... and the strap-on she was wearing.

Ygritte's strap-on was eight inches, black, textured. There was an attachment on the harness that would stimulate her G-spot and clit, so the harder she fucked, the more it would rub against her and inside her, pleasing her as well. She had used it on him before, but not in awhile - it was for special occasions. Usually, when Jon was feeling his most vulnerable and needed to feel that he was _hers_ , that he _belonged to her_.

Now was one of those times.

Ygritte leaned into his cock, teasing it by licking the head, licking up and down the shaft. He'd gotten a Prince Albert piercing for the same reason he'd gotten his nipples pierced - he was hers, it was a tangible reminder of that; they also both liked the way it looked, and more importantly, Ygritte liked the way the ring in his cock felt, inside her. She gave the ring a light, playful tug with her teeth, licked around the site of the piercing, lapped his precum, traced the veins in his shaft with her tongue. She finally took his cock into her mouth, slowly, and sucked him slowly for as long as he could stand it. As she sucked, she put lube on her fingers, then one finger inside him. Jon cried out when her finger found that magic button inside him, and she smiled around the cock in her mouth, slowly rubbing his prostate before adding two fingers and rubbing just a little harder. Soon she had three fingers inside him, fucking his prostate, getting him ready for her.

She took his cock out of her mouth and he let out a little whimper; she climbed off the bed and walked over to him, the strap-on cock in his face. "Suck it," she commanded.

Their eyes locked as he took the cock into his mouth bit by bit, until it was in as much as he could take; Jon fought his gag reflex and deep-throated Ygritte's strap-on cock, Ygritte held tightly onto the leash with one hand, her other hand on the O-ring of his collar where the leash was hooked through. His cock throbbed at this, feeling completely under her power, surrendering to the woman he worshiped, who found him worthy of such worship.

When the strap-on was glistening with saliva, Ygritte pulled it out of his mouth, climbed back onto the bed, and got between his legs. The first moment of her pushing into his tight anal ring was pain, burning, and then he was almost unbearably full, but when she started thrusting, slowly, and the cock hit his prostate, it was heaven. The sight of Ygritte fucking him, her breasts bouncing in time with the cock working in and out of him, just made it that much better. Watching her get excited, knowing she was getting fucked as she was fucking him... Jon moaned, helpless in his need.

She went slowly at first, letting him get adjusted to the cock inside his ass, and then she held nothing back - his legs propped up on her shoulders as she jackhammered him, making the bed rock against the wall, the slap of their bodies together competing with the sound of their cries. Ygritte took Jon's cock into her hand, stroking it fast and furious. The other hand pulled the leash.

"That's a good boy," Ygritte growled. "That's my good puppy..."

"Oh, fuck..." Jon's eyes rolled. The excitement built to fever pitch, wound so tight he felt he could explode, but he never wanted her to stop, never wanted the deliciousness of her beautiful body and the rubbing against the most intimate part of him to end. He whimpered, and Ygritte growled again.

"That's right," she whispered. "Good puppy. My good boy... mine... this arse belongs to me... all of you belongs to me, Jon..."

"Fuck, fuck... _fuck_ , Ygritte, please..."

"Please, what?"

He couldn't articulate what he was begging for - he needed to come, but he needed to be _fucked, taken_. He just whimpered again, and Ygritte fucked even harder. He could tell from the sounds she was making now that she was very close to orgasm herself.

"Mine," Ygritte panted. "Mine... mine..."

"Yours," Jon gasped. "I'm yours, Ygritte... take me, fuck me, have your way with me..."

"Good boy. Good boy..."

"I'm so close..." Jon shuddered. "But I want you to come..."

"I will." Ygritte's eyes locked with his. "I will when you come." She jerked his cock harder, making it rattle. "Come for me, puppy. Show me who you belong to."

Jon cried out as his climax overtook him, spraying Ygritte's tits - the sight of her breasts covered in his cum made him shoot again and again, throbbing and throbbing. Ygritte gave one, two, three more cruel thrusts before she let out a cry of her own and collapsed on top of him, shaking.

They lay there, tangled up together, cresting and coming down. After what felt like an eternity of bliss, Ygritte picked her head up from Jon's chest and kissed him, deeply. They both moaned into the kiss; as hard as Jon had come, he wasn't quite spent yet, and his cock began to stir again at the kiss.

Ygritte took off the strap-on, and settled back down in his arms. They resumed kissing, and it became clear when Ygritte started kissing his neck again that she wasn't quite done, either.

She rode him slowly. He loved the sight of her pussy kissing his cock again and again, taking him inside her. He loved the feel of her wet heat wrapped around him, knowing that he was pleasing her. They ran their hands over each other, sensually exploring... connecting. Jon had been touch-starved for most of his life, and Ygritte's touch made him ache in a good way, brought him close to tears again, but from joy rather than pain. Their hands finally clasped as she rode him harder, faster, until the finish when he put his hands on her hips and she held onto him for dear life as he pounded away, the wet suctioning sound and slap of his balls driving them both wild, as much as the heat of their fucking. "That's it," Ygritte rasped. "Give yourself to me, baby..."

She leaned into kiss him, and when she kissed his neck, _bit_ it with a growl - that sent him over the edge, and her with him. The feel of her contracting around him and the sound of her gasping, panting cries made his orgasm that much more intense, spending and spending.

They nuzzled through the ebb of their release, and kissed once more, gently. Ygritte stroked Jon's face, and then unclipped the leash from his collar; she reached to take it off of him.

Jon pouted a little as he watched the leash go back in the bedtable drawer, and Ygritte hesitated before she put the collar back in.

"Do you think..." Jon paused.

"What?" Ygritte's eyebrows went up. "Out with it, love."

"It's stupid..."

"If you need something, it's not stupid, Jon Snow," Ygritte scolded.

Jon took a deep breath. "Do you think I could wear the collar tonight? And you keep me on the leash? It helps me feel more like... I'm yours. Like I... belong to you." _Like I belong somewhere._

"Of course, honey." Ygritte patted him and took the leash back out, then put the collar back on him. "I'll put this back on you after you get changed."

Jon put on his T-shirt and, since he wasn't going back out tonight, a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. Ygritte wore an oversized tie-dye T-shirt as a nightgown, and still looked like a goddess to him. Once they were dressed again, she hooked the leash back into his collar and walked him into the living room, then to the kitchen so they could heat up the dinner they hadn't touched.

He slept with the leash on, that night, and despite the stress of the afternoon he slept better than he had in a long time. He reluctantly took off the collar the next morning to go to work, but when he came home that evening, Ygritte was waiting for him at the door to put the leash and collar back on as soon as he walked in. He smiled - he could get used to this.


End file.
